


Darkly Mirrored

by Rabid_X



Series: 2014 Steter Week [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Eichen | Echo House, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Steter Week, Torture, dark!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabid_X/pseuds/Rabid_X
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles visites Peter in Eichen House to work off some of his darker urges and frustrations with the captive werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkly Mirrored

**Author's Note:**

> For 2014 Steter Week. Day 1 prompt was for Dark!Stiles. I think I fulfilled the task. This is an un-beta'd work. Please let me know the mistakes you find or volunteer for beta-ing! :) HEED THE WARNINGS! This is a dark Stiles who keeps him dark side hidden from everyone. Previously posted to Tumblr.

Stiles watched with avid eyes as Peter yanked at the cuffs on his wrists. The room in Eichen House was small, stark and soundproofed. Stiles knew it well. The only thing in it was the bed, metal framed and bare mattress. Well and Peter.

The werewolf was still weak from the dose of yellow wolfsbane Argent had given him and was likely to be for weeks more to come. Add slightly loggy from whatever it was his cellmate did and Stiles couldn't help but grin. He liked having Peter helpless before him. It was unique and exciting. He walked over to the bed and grabbed Peter's chin, tugging his head up to look at his face.

"I found someone willing to take a little of your money for a favor or two. Brunski wasn't the only one with fluid morality here," Stiles said. "Nice, isn't it? Knowing you're going to help me get a little... therapy."

Peter frowned, eyes trying to focus. "S-stiles? What the hell do you want?"

Stiles' grin was a papercut in his face and Peter tried to tug his head away, found he couldn't get far enough. Stiles laughed and settled down on the side of the bed. "Listen, I know you'll struggle, I know you'll threaten and cajole and try you best, Peter. But the cuffs are lined with just enough wolfsbane to keep you from breaking them. Your wrists and ankles are another story but you'll heal, right? Eventually?"

"I don't know what you want me to do here, Stiles," Peter's voice was low but too hoarse to be as slick and enticing as before. Stiles swung a leg over Peter's hips and straddled him. The werewolf's eyes lit up and he licked his lips. "Oh, well then."

"Yeah it's sorta what you think but so not really," Stiles said as he dug a small leather case out from under the outer layer of his shirts. His fingers were nimble as they unzipped the case, displaying scalpels with various shapes to the blades.

Peter blanched and tried to sit up and Stiles laughed. "Calm down, I'm not going to operate. And if you buck up it'll only be worse."

"I thought they got rid of the Nogitsune," Peter snarled, lips pulled back, blue eyes clearing.

Stiles pulled his shirts off, tossing them aside. Then he shoved Peter's hospital uniform up. Pale hands stroked up quivering muscles and Stiles leaned in close, lips almost against Peter's ear. "Oh they did. It's gone so this? Is all me."

A thin line of cold dragged across Peter's belly and he was struck with the scent of blood. It smelled like rust and bitter herbs, dust and fragile bones. He hissed and bucked up, a shard of ice lancing though his right side.

"Dammit, Peter," Stiles said as he sat up. He didn't sound too upset though. "Be careful. I don't actually want to perforate any organs."

Peter's bark of laughter echoed in the small room. "As if you could, you insolent little faker. I cannot believe I was actually worried."

Stiles backhanded him and Peter snarled, fangs dropping. A blade like half a little moon appeared under his nose, Stiles' face hovering close. "I know what you see because I put it out there," Stiles spat. "Stiles hates needles and blood so he must be weak. Stiles faints so he must be frail and scared."

"You've never been that scared," Peter hissed. "Except when I had you."

"Mmm you never had me, Peter, but yeah you did scare me," Stiles sat up again. "Lots of things scare me just not what everyone thinks. I didn't want to be a werewolf, still don't. Can't afford to let it all go. But I am going to let a little of it out tonight because you deserve it."

The boy looked glorious, like an atavistic priest of a blood god, wallowing in his sacrifice. It made Peter feel hot all over, the idea that Stiles, pale, thin Stiles could reduce him so easily. And he had to give him credit. The scalpels were sharp. The pain, so cold and piercing, took a second to register with each slice. He watched somewhat dispassionately, as Stiles made abstract patterns on his chest and belly, golden eyes locked on the thin welling of blood. When a blade sliced across a nipple, Peter hissed and arched up.

Stiles stopped and tilted his head to the side as if to read something different on Peter's face. The scent of lust seeped into the thick air, winding around the metallic tang of blood and sweat. He wasn't sure if it was him or Stiles. 

"Stiles is a virgin," the boy sing-songed. "Because Stiles can't get anyone to fuck him. I could though, she wants to sooo bad, Peter. Your daughter wants me to fuck her so bad but I haven't. Tasted her, put my tongue and fingers in every hole she has."

Peter watched, eyes glazing over again as Stiles sucked his fingers as if he could still taste Malia there. Spit and blood slicked fingers trailed down his pale chest. Peter was hard, so fucking hard pressed up against Stiles jean clad ass that he wondered if he could just rip through his hospital pants and come against the rough fabric. 

"She's done the same to me," Stiles said, shifting back and sitting square on Peter's cock. "But I've never put my cock in her so still a bit of a virgin in the Vatican sense. Gonna stay that way too, not... really sure why."

"C-couldn't find the right psychopath?" Peter asked, voice even rougher than before. He was surprised to realize it was because he'd been screaming.

Stiles grunted and shrugged, sticky fingers undoing the knot of Peter's pants. He shifted further back and yanked them down, Peter's erect cock springing free. Bloody fingerprints soon decorated its length and Peter watched spots dance in front of his eyes, surprisingly light-headed. He heard more than saw the rasp of Stiles' zipper 

"Tasted one Hale, time to taste another," Stiles murmured before wrapping his lips around Peter's shaft and sucking. 

Peter moaned and shifted, keenly aware of the pool of blood in his belly button and the slowly healing lines along his chest. But Stiles' mouth was so hot, his tongue talented, that he arched his hips and crooned. "So good, Stiles, yes like that, sweet, sweet boy..."

"No!" Pain blossomed, hot this time, in Peter's thigh. Stiles sat up, scalpel buried in the side meat of Peter's right leg. His eyes were wild and his chest heaving. "You don't get to enjoy this! You tried to kill Scott and used Kate against Derek... You betrayed them. You - You don't get to touch them. Never ever get to touch them..."

Stiles' voice was a loud but steady chant. His left hand stabbed down over and over even as the right one stripped his cock. Peter tried to pull away, tried to get his claws to do something, anything besides shred useless edges of the mattress. Words got lost in guttural sounds falling from bitten lips, mostly parts of names and 'Mine' over and over. He nearly missed the hot splash of come in all the blood. 

Drifting in and out of consciousness he was dimly aware of Stiles moving off him. His clothes were set to rights and a fond kiss placed on the head of his still hard cock. 

"See you in a month, Peter," Stiles whispered and left. 

Peter was sure he was supposed to stay hard until then. He wondered how long he could do it. If it would please his Stiles at all...


End file.
